


Fire and Ice

by sniperct



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Feels, Sexy Times, x-men femslash week, xmenfemslashweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniperct/pseuds/sniperct
Summary: Jean couldn't remember what had come over her. Why she'd slept with Emma. Maybe it was stress. It was probably the stress and certainlynothingto do with their shared grief. And lord, had she been stressed lately. Stressed enough to steal even more moments with Emma. These stolen moments were a lot easier than talking, because words are too complicated when they aren’t being said between the thighs.





	1. Dirty Tricks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrotechnician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrotechnician/gifts).



> Honestly we can blame this one on [Pyrotechnician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrotechnician/pseuds/pyrotechnician)

It would be easy to blame stress. Or blame any number of things for what had happened. Jean only needed to close her eyes to remember Emma’s lips on hers, hungry kisses and bruises left in pale skin. She only needed the weight of the fabric to remember the turtleneck she was wearing, hear the whisper of a memory of Emma’s voice screaming her name, her own throat raw with Emma’s echoing off the walls.

She’d needed to blow off steam. What had started with an exercise in the Danger Room had turned into… something else. Something she couldn’t get her mind off of. Some _one_ she couldn’t get her mind off of. Jean hadn’t noticed when Emma had entered the simulation until she’d made an acerbic comment on Jean’s form. 

Even now, Jean couldn’t figure out how they’d gone from verbal sparring, to actual sparring, to _tongue_ sparring. She was pretty sure she was missing a step in the middle of that. 

Even worse, Jean couldn’t figure out how she felt about it. She didn’t _hate_ Emma, not the way a lot of people expected her to. 

_Dwelling overly much, darling?_

The firm touch of Emma’s mind against hers made Jean reassess that whole not hating her thing.

_I’m not dwelling on anything._

Emma’s laughter rippled across her mind. It was pleasant, like music. _Do you want to talk about it?_

Jean continued with her lecture, outwardly calm and composed despite the conversation going on in her head. Their psychic chat took on the appearance of the kitchen, Emma sitting at the table in nothing but a partly open robe and sipping at tea. Jean leaned against the counter and eyed her warily, “Whatever happened last night stays between us.”

“I would hope so,” Emma replied, scoffing. “Could you imagine the inane gossip we’d be subjected to?” She took a sip, and over the edge of her mug asked, “You _did_ remember to scrub the Danger Room’s history, did you not?”

Feeling her face burn (which wasn’t actually possible in the mental landscape), Jean waved her hand, “Recordings deleted, the only evidence is the log that we entered and left.”

She tried not to watch the way Emma’s lips curved upward, “Very good then. Pity, though. _That_ would have been something worth preserving. Art, truly.”

They were back in the Danger Room again, Jean bent backwards against the rubble of a Sentinel’s foot, Emma’s fingers dancing between her legs and her teeth at her throat. 

“Ms. Grey?”

Jean realized she’d gasped out loud, blinking her eyes as the classroom came into focus.

 _That was a dirty trick!_ “I’m … fine. Why don’t we call it an early day today.”

She was going to _kill_ Emma.

***

Chuckling to herself, Emma returned her focus to the papers she was reading. Honestly, some of these students’ ideas of what constituted grammar left much to be desired. “That is _not_ how you spell that.”

Really, it was a good thing she _liked_ her job. Returning to teaching had been the best decision she’d made in recent years.

Teasing Jean Grey being a close second.

Her office door opened, and she didn’t look up, “I’m afraid you’ll have to come back later, I’m quite busy.”

“I didn’t appreciate that.”

Emma sighed, and lifted her eyes. Jean was leaning with both hands on her desk, and Emma couldn’t help but linger on her decolletage. “I wouldn’t go that far. You certainly enjoyed it while it was happening.”

And Emma had. Much more than she’d ever expected. She’d just wanted to get a rise out of Jean. They’d argued, then Emma had ‘offered’ to show Jean a thing or two about fighting. At some point as they sparred with each other and also a sentinel they’d ended up half naked on top of the wreckage and Emma wasn’t sure how. While she was never one to feel shame, she was still annoyed because of who it was. 

She’d almost rather kiss _Kitty_. God, no. Take that back. 

“That was one time. A one time thing,” Jean said, holding up a finger.

“You’re working too hard,” Emma pointed out. “You need to relax. Do you want to go back to the Danger Room?” She couldn’t help the dangerous lilt to her voice. “Relieve the tension? I’ll be honest, I needed the release too.”

Emma’s tone nearly set Jean off, but the last part of what she said registered, “You could have anyone you want. Why me?”

Standing, Emma came around the desk, “It takes two to tango, darling.”

“I know that, but if you wanted to get laid there are a thousand people to choose from.”

“You don’t think that you’re lacking in choice?” Emma shook her head and regarded Jean with cold amusement. “The X-men’s sacred cow, the entire staff and three quarters of the student body would trade a kidney to have your attentions.”

Jean was seething, and Emma idly wondered if she’d pushed too far. So she pushed harder, “Come to think of it, _have_ you been with anyone since you returned? Since before Scott died?”

Even saying his name felt like an ice pick in her chest, and Emma almost went diamond. It had been a year and… damn, she was having an emotion.

So was Jean, who balled her hands into fists, her hair nearly catching flame. “There are _lines_ Emma. Be careful not to cross them.”

Keeping her eyes on Jean’s, Emma ran a hand up her arm. “Did I hit a nerve?”

She felt Jean’s thoughts touch the surface of hers, her pain familiar. Damn, she almost felt bad, and not just because she’d managed to hurt herself in the process. 

And oh, that was it. That was why. That was the missing step. Why actually _talk_ about their shared grief, when they could do this. Emma’s hand slid to the back of Jean’s neck, and she pulled her into a kiss. Hot and cold, ice and fire, diamond and ruby.

Jean let out a sound in protest, but didn’t pull away. _You’re cheating._

Emma smiled into the kiss, _You can stop any time you want._

Instead, the door swung shut and locked itself. Before Emma could laugh, Jean had lifted her up onto the desk, nails digging into the underside of her thighs. 

“Don’t say a word,” Jean whispered, and Emma watched in fascination as the buttons on her blouse slowly came undone on their own.

“Technically, I’d be the one getting more trouble than you,” Emma pointed out. Jean was, after all, the golden child who could do no wrong, and Emma the Jezebel who’d nearly destroyed everything. 

Jean pulled her sweater off and tossed it aside, “You’re just asking for punishment, aren’t you.”

“ _Jean_. I would _never_ dream of such a thing.”

The image she gave Jean was so vivid that the redhead nearly stumbled as her knees threatened to give out. “ _Emma_.”

The golden child had a dark side. Emma filed that thought away for later. She sat up, reaching over and pulling Jean to the desk and wrapped her legs around her. She’d _always_ enjoyed being taken on her desk.

Jean leaned her head down, catching Emma’s lips with her own and running her hand down her arms and then across her chest. Emma groaned, Jean’s fingers like, ironically, fire on her skin.

Thumbs flicking across each of Emma’s nipples, Jean whispered against her throat, “Just one more time.”

“Yes…” Emma tangled her fingers in Jean’s hair and pushed her head down. “Just this once more.”


	2. This Is War

Jean woke with a gasp, her body thrumming and sweaty and desire pooling between her legs. The dream was fading quickly, but she could still feel the pressure of a tongue.

Emma had to be messing with her, it was the only explanation. Every night for weeks, she’d woken up like this, and it was starting to drive her crazy.

Her phone buzzed, and she rolled over to grab it. 

**Queen Bitch >> **What the hell was that?

“What, she doesn’t want to use her powers?”Jean asked no one in particular. And why now, after so many weeks of ignoring each other. 

She responded, idly wondering what Emma had for her for her contact info.

**Sacred Cow >> **I know what you did.  
 **Queen Bitch >>** How eloquent. Please enlighten me.  
 **Sacred Cow >>** I’m not going to dignify this with an answer.  
 **Queen Bitch >>** Interesting. I’m not feeling very enlightened  
 **Queen Bitch >>** And darling, you did dignify this with an answer

Frowning at her phone, Jean dropped it back onto the end table and laid back in bed. Fuck Emma for messing with her like that. It was bad enough she couldn’t get through a staff meeting without feeling the heat of Emma’s gaze, now she can’t even make it through the night. 

Her hands started to wander of their own accord and Jean had a momentary flash of guilt as her mind went _straight_ to Emma. It was impossible to tell if it was her own imagination or bleedover from the other telepath, but she felt as though she was touching Emma and not herself - and vice versa.

Even though there was no reason for a walk of shame the next morning, Jean still _felt_ like that was what she was doing. But few others were up this Saturday morning, and there was only one person in the teacher’s lounge. 

Kitty looked like like she hadn’t slept well either. Jean caught a flash of _something_ in Kitty’s surface thoughts before she realized Jean was here and clamped down with her psychic shields.

Which was interesting, since most people didn’t bother to try to shield their surface thoughts unless they _really_ didn’t want a telepath to know. More than happy to focus on something that wasn’t Emma Frost, Jean asked, “Everything okay?”

Wide-eyed, Kitty looked behind her even though she was alone. “Uh. Yeah. Everything is fine. _Totally_ fine.”

Not at all convinced, Jean made her way to the coffee maker, relieved that her own secret remained secret. Kitty wouldn’t take the idea of her sleeping with Emma well, at all. It was already a little awkward at times, but she didn’t mind Kitty being headmistress. It was a role that suited her. Certainly a lot better than when Logan had been running the place. AT least in Jean’s opinion. “So why do you look like you’ve just committed some grave crime?”

“What? No! No. Noooo.” Kitty waved her hand, and started to edge towards the door. “Everything is fine!”

Rachel appeared in the doorway, not catching her mother there until she’d started speaking. “Hey ba--Kitty. Hi Kitty. Kate. Hi. Oh! Mom, I didn’t see you there!”

“Ray! Lets go we’ve got things to do” Kitty grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her bodily away, loudly proclaiming, “ _Everything is fine_.”

There was something going on there, something that Jean had a few guesses to but nothing she was sure she _actually_ wanted to know about. Let those two be distracted by whatever was going on. After all, Rachel would handle the Emma thing even worse than Kitty. All the more reason to keep it secret; and put an end to it.

Jean’s thoughts were interrupted by the coffee machine going off. She turned to get her mug, glad it was the weekend. Except for a staff meeting that afternoon, it was going to be a light day. She looked forward to getting a chance to get her head on straight.

Coffee acquired, she turned around in time for Emma to enter the kitchen. Jean tried to slip past her, and once she was out of the kitchen, she brushed her mind against Emma’s, giving her a memory from the other night. 

She was rewarded with the sound of a mug shattering on the tile, and she took on a decidedly smug smile as she made her way to her office. It felt like she and Emma were at _war_ and for the first time she’d won a battle. Jean didn’t like losing, and she had a competitive streak that rarely got a chance to come out.

That was a very nice rationalization, if she did say so herself. So much for _ending it_. Well. She could end it later. Whatever “it” was.

She picked up some stray thoughts as she rounded a corner and came to a stop before she could interrupt Logan and Ororo. Her feelings for both were complicated, and her relationship with both had also been complicated; and physical on occasion. But she’d never seen either of them happier than they’d been since getting together.

“You know, if we discourage the students from public displays of affection, maybe we shouldn’t be making out in the hallways either.”

Ororo stepped back from Logan and cleared her throat. “Good morning.”

“Heya Jeannie.” Of course _Logan_ looked pleased with himself. Jean felt a pang of envy.

She suddenly felt very alone, “Have any plans tonight?”

“Logan and I were going to take in a show,” Ororo replied, glancing down at him fondly.

“She’s makin’ me see Frozen on Broadway,” he complained.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ororo shot him a teasing smile, “ _You_ picked it out.”

Laughing, Jean put her hand over her chest, “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I know you have a fearsome reputation to maintain. And any excuse to put on a tuxedo.”

Maybe she should talk to them. They _were_ her closest friends. They might even understand, despite their history of animosity with Emma. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe Jean needed to figure this out a bit more before she asked them.

Or at least waited for a few days instead of potentially ruining their night or risking Rachel catching wind.

“Jean, are you all right?” 

Jean met Ororo’s eyes, “Yes. No. I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I figure that out.”

“Sure about that, darlin’?”

She nodded at Logan. “Positive.”

That wasn’t the end of it, and Jean quickly retreated into her office before either of them decided to give her the third degree. 

Emma was sitting on her desk, legs crossed. She was wearing lingerie, white of course, with stockings and garters, and she was practically falling out of the top.

The coffee slipped out of Jean’s hands, the mug bouncing on the carpet and spilling the liquid everywhere. Jean didn’t notice, her eyes taking in every inch of Emma before she sputtered, “What are you..how did…?!”

“Ms. Grey?” 

Jean snapped her head around. One of Emma’s cuckoos, Phoebe, was standing in the doorway, and Jean glanced back at the desk. Emma was gone. 

Telepathic projection, of course. Steadying herself, she looked back at Phoebe, “What is it?”

“Are you okay?”

“My hand slipped. Can I help you?”

“I wanted to know if we could get an extension on our report. There’ve been some problems with the computer lab.”

Jean dimly recalled something Kitty had mentioned at the last meeting, so she nodded. “All right. I’ll give you another week.”

The girl perked up, and ran off. Jean caught sight of the other two joining her. Honestly, it was so much easier to keep track of them now that Phoebe and Mindee had dyed their hair. Jean felt a perverse sense of satisfaction that Phoebe had gone red. She was positive that had been specifically to piss Emma off and Jean _approved_.

Speaking of Emma. Jean held her hand out, the mug floating back to her hand. The liquid followed and though she couldn’t get all of it she got enough to avoid a really bad stain. It was undrinkable though.

“Tsk. You really should hold onto your coffee better. Wouldn’t want to make a mess.”

Even though Jean knew Emma wasn’t physically there, she could still feel the heat of her breath in her ear and nearly lost the mug again. “What game are you playing?”

“I’m not the one that started this. You’re clearly obsessed with me _and_ my perfect bosoms.” As if to emphasize that point, Emma pressed against Jean’s back and slid her hands around to caress at her stomach. Jean held perfectly still, and Emma whispered, “Now, why am I not hearing any denial?”

“My room,” Jean rasped. “Tonight.”

“Just once more?” Emma asked, her hands sliding up under Jean’s shirt. If Jean didn’t know better, she’d say there was anticipation in Emma’s voice.

“Once more.” Jean closed her eyes, and Emma’s projection flickered.

“Did you just _grope_ me?” Emma asked, incredulous.

“Seemed like something I should do.”

“My my, what a terrible misuse of your telekinesis.” Emma’s projection disappeared, and Jean was alone again.

Alone, with ruined coffee and a desperate need for a cold shower. “One more. Just one more,” she repeated.

She really needed to find another way to work out her stress. Or to try to talk to someone about this. But words were too complicated when they weren’t being said between the thighs.


	3. Having Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one gets dirty, but the good kind of dirty

It was late. Late enough that Emma could easily sneak back to her room without anyone noticing, but she didn’t feel particularly inclined to _move_. After all, her legs might not carry her that distance anyway. She laughed softly in the afterglow. 

Jean shifted against her, her skin warm, and Emma ran her finger tips lightly along her shoulder and down her back.

It made Jean shiver and snuggle closer. For all the energy and lewd language earlier, it was _soft_. And Emma’s dirty, dirty secret was that she _liked_ that softness.

Her hand trailed up into Jean’s hair, and she scratched lightly. A low, needy moan escaped Jean’s mouth and she covered it with her hand.

To say that Emma’s expression was the proverbial cat who caught the canary would be an _understatement_. 

“You’re lucky I’m exhausted, darling,” Emma purred. “But I will remember this.”

She continued to play with Jean’s hair, digging her nails into her scalp and tugging at the red locks that curled around her fingers. Emma felt Jean’s nails dig into the skin of her stomach. Perhaps she wasn’t that exhausted after all.

Jean turned her head, biting Emma’s shoulder to muffle another moan. Then she moved her head away and glowered. 

Emma laughed, rolling onto her side and moving her hand to Jean’s hip, before sliding it to her back again. Jean did the same, tracing patterns in Emma’s back that sent a shiver through her.

She might have said something, so she kissed Jean instead.

_You’re full of surprises, Emma._

Nipping lightly at Jean’s lip, Emma responded, _And you can’t tell anyone I enjoy a good cuddle, without revealing our dalliances._

Jean let the subject go, but she moved her lips to Emma’s cheek, and then her forehead. For reasons she didn’t want to try to understand, this affected Emma deeply. She lowered her head, burying her face into Jean’s neck, her fingers and hands gripping the back of her shoulders. Jean’s hands hesitated, before starting to stroke her hair.

When she’d said she liked things a little soft sometimes, she hadn’t meant like _that_. That gentle, almost tender kiss, the hand on her face. Only one other person had ever touched her like that and Jean couldn’t understand what a knife to the heart her actions had been.

Worse, Emma couldn’t even be mad. _Worse_ , it made her thoughts wander, made her chest ache, made her want and need in ways far beyond physical gratification.

It had finally happened. The bitch had managed a precision strike through Emma’s diamond armor. There was only one thing to do about _that_. 

Emma started to pull away, with every intention of escaping Jean’s room, and Jean, forever. She didn’t even need to dress - she’d masked her nudity with her powers when she’d come, much to her delight at Jean’s reaction.

“No.”

One word and Emma came up short, still sitting on the edge of the bed. She shouldn’t look. Looking would be counterproductive, yet she found herself looking back. “No?”

Jean’s emerald eyes were tired, shining with wetness that she was holding back. She held out her hand. “Stay.”

“Well, if you insist,” Emma said, as if she were giving Jean some grand gift with this small allowance. She crawled back, a bit like a predator stalking her prey, only for Jean to push her down onto her stomach and straddle her butt. Emma groaned as Jean started to massage her back, letting her head flop down onto the pillow. If this was going to be the incentive, she’d _never_ leave.

Emma sent the thought drifting idly to Jean, _What are you playing at?_

“I’m relaxing you,” Jean replied, her fingers dangerously low on Emma’s back. She leaned forward, breasts brushing the muscles between Emma’s shoulder blades and lips pressing a sweet kiss to the nape of Emma’s neck.

_This is the exact opposite of relaxing._

Jean smiled, Emma’s protest token at best. She moved her hands back up, sliding her fingers across Emma’s skin in lazy circles that made Emma arc her back and gasp.

This time, Jean was the one with the feather in her mouth. Eyes alight, she pressed a kiss to one shoulder blade, caressing her fingers along Emma’s sides and ribcage. Tender. Gentle.

This was Jean’s revenge for all those times Emma had caught her unawares, and it was dangerous minefield of emotions for both of them. 

“Turn around,” she whispered, and to her surprise Emma obeyed. She lifted herself up enough for Emma to twist under her and stared down. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t well aware of just hot how Emma was. Or that she was aware of just how hot Emma found her. 

But they rarely took time to savor it, something Emma seemed to realize as her hands started to stroke Jean’s torso and breasts in a lazy manner. 

Smiling, Jean slid her hands across Emma’s breasts, moving her palms in circles over her nipples and delighting in the hazy expression on Emma’s face that matched the breathy moan she’d pulled from her mouth.

_Darling, are you trying to kill me?_

“Yes.” Jean leaned down, replacing her left hand with her mouth, teasing and taunting with her tongue and lips. Emma’s reaction was nearly instantaneous. Her fingers tangled in Jean’s fiery hair and she pulled her against her body with a low, needy groan.

Jean’s other hand slid down, trailing fire across Emma’s stomach and then bringing it to her thigh. Up that fire went, until Jean’s fingers moved in a slow circle everywhere but where Emma wanted them most.

“Jean,” Emma rasped, feeling a bit like she was literally going to die that very minute.

Sliding up just a little bit, Jean brushed her lips against Emma’s ear, “Jean what?”

_Damn you!_

“Emma…”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, rocking her hips to try to press herself against Jean’s hand, but telekinesis held her down and she had never been so turned on in her life. “ _Jean, please!_ ”

Jean’s finger immediately brushed down over Emma’s clit and she writhed, hooking a leg around the back of one of Jean’s. But Jean didn’t move any faster. She kissed Emma, finger moving back and forth in a slow and steady pace, teasing and taunting again and only occasionally returning to Emma’s clit. Emma tensed and shivered underneath her, the kiss growing deeper and more emotional.

Grinning into the kiss, Jean slid her finger inside Emma, hooking it as she pressed her thumb against Emma’s clit, giving up any pretense of drawing it out. Emma’s hips would have bucked if she wasn’t being held down by Jean’s powers, and she cried out into her mouth. 

Lifting her head, panting nearly as heavily as Emma was, Jean lost herself in those eyes, pinpricks of tears in the corner of hers mirrored in Emma’s. 

Emma, who suddenly snapped like a spring coiled too tight, her voice ringing in Jean’s ears. But the words, the _words_ , “Fuck, Jean, _fuck_ , I _love you_...!”

Slowly, Jean drew out Emma’s climax and then her hand stilled as she brought her down from the high. She could have used her powers for this. Properly fuck Emma into submission and maybe later, she would. But she wanted this time to be just them, flesh to flesh and skin to skin, the only allowance of power the connection between their minds and just a little bit of telekinetic bondage.

“I love you too,” Jean murmured, as Emma met her eyes with an expression that was painfully unguarded.

Emma’s head flopped back onto the pillow, her limbs heavy and her eyes burning. “Oh my god…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m having an _emotion_.”


	4. Dramatic Reveals

Jean had indeed fucked Emma into submission later that night, holding her down with her powers and doing all the lewd things with them that would scandalize half the school.

Only it hadn’t really been fucking. Or maybe ‘love-fucking’ as Emma had once heard Logan call it. Because of course he’d call it that.

_Regardless_ of what one called it, she was walking funny that morning while simultaneously glowing as she entered the teacher’s lounge. Kitty and Rachel were suddenly three feet apart and Emma rolled her eyes, “You’re not hiding anything, you might as well come out and admit it.”

She was aware of the irony, thank you very much.

Kitty narrowed her eyes, looking Emma over, “Yeah, well…”

“So when's the wedding?” Jean asked, sweeping in and catching everyone but Emma off guard.

Kitty looked like she was about to sink into the ground, and had in fact gone about two inches into the tile before Emma fixed a look at her. She swallowed, “I uh…”

“Kitty, it’s okay, really.” Jean looked at her daughter, “You guys could have told me a long time ago.”

“I kind of thought you were in denial,” Rachel countered. 

“Well, I was.” Jean shrugged her shoulder, and moved to the coffee machine. “But I’m happy for you, really. It's honestly about time.”

_Darling, you’re walking like you’ve gotten laid._ Emma was also aware of the irony of _that_ statement, too.

And that Kitty was looking between them. She opened her mouth to say something, Emma already picking up the words at the edge of her consciousness and braced herself for the reveal. She hoped it would be suitably dramatic.

“Are you fucking kidding me?.” Logan’s voice in the doorway stopped everything. 

Sure that didn’t count as suitably dramatic, Emma turned slowly, expression bored but eyes shooting daggers at Logan. Naturally, he ignored them, “You two are _fucking_.”

“Language, you tiny _sasquatch_ ,” Emma intoned. “There are _children_ nearby.” 

Probably.

“Mom?” Rachel looked at Jean, then at Emma, “Oh my god.” She backed into the counter, weeks of denial falling away, “Oh my _god_.”

“Rachel…” Jean didn’t glance at Emma, but she did send a warning across their psychic link. “Yes, we’ve been…”

“You’re sleeping with _Emma Frost_ ,” Rachel hissed. “After _everything_ she’s done? To you? To dad? To _me_.”

Another warning from Jean when Emma started to protest. She had, after all, helped _train_ Rachel. She knew the animosity had always been there but she’d expected the worst of it to be behind them by now. For that matter, Logan was _silent_ which was a whole other sort of alarming.

“Trust me, I’m as surprised as everyone else, but Emma is one of us.”Jean swept her arm out, giving Logan in particular a look, her thoughts coming across to Emma’s mind, “She’s been one of us for longer than a lot of other people. Besides, what I do and who I’m with is my choice.”

Emma wondered when that link between her and Jean had gotten so strong. It was similar to the one both she and Jean had once shared with Scott. A thought that was giving her emotions again. She was _tired_ of emotions, but she glanced at Jean and her expression softened minutely. Maybe not _that_ tired.

Rachel didn’t explode, which was a blessing. It was entirely possible she caught that change in Emma’s expression, because she turned and walked out the side door.

Kitty pinched the bridge of her nose, “This is what I get for not implementing fraternization rules.”

Jean grabbed her arm when she moved to follow Rachel. “Give her a few minutes. And… I should be the one that talks to her.”

“No.” Emma brushed past both of them, “It should be me.” This time, it was her giving Jean the warning thought.

She found Rachel outside, sitting in a tree overlooking the lake. She made no attempt to hide her approach, either physically or psychically. Leaning against the tree, she folded her arms. “This _is_ a rather stunning view.”

Rachel didn’t respond, and Emma rolled her eyes, “You can sulk up there like someone ten years younger or we can talk like the adults we are.”

There was a rustling, and then Rachel floated down. Her jaw was tense, a flood of emotion in her eyes that wasn’t just anger. It was almost like Rachel looked _defeated_.

Interesting. Emma tilted her head, a number of things she could say floating through her head. Most of them would only set Rachel off and for _Jean’s_ sake, she kept them to herself. Instead, she waited.

For all of two seconds. “Scott is dead. Whatever little hope you still held to see yourself born into this timeline is gone.”

Rachel’s eyes flashed but Emma pressed on, “Jean loved him. Probably more than she’ll ever be able to love me. And I loved him too. I _loved_ him. I loved him so much that it’s been a year, and it still hurts. It will be five or ten, and a part of me will _always_ hurt. But he’s gone, and those of us left behind will have to move on.”

“But you and _my mother_?” Rachel asked. She’d almost come to accept Emma and Scott, _almost_ , but this was too much, she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Just like she couldn’t wrap her head around Emma singling out why she was hurting so much. And she didn’t have a leg to stand on on the whole keeping secrets thing so she just fumed inside her head. It was loud enough fuming to give Emma a headache.

“Darling, sometimes you hate someone so much that it comes right around and you start to love them. And then you find out that she’s not so bad after all.” Last night had been the time she’d _admitted_ it to herself, but the feelings had been there, and they’d been there for _months_. It was all so _adolescent_ and Emma preferred not to dwell on it. It had happened, and she’d be damned before she’d let herself miss out on a single iota of happiness.

“I’m still not sure I understand.” Rachel folded her arms, expression raw and eyes still burning with anger.

“You don’t _have_ to.” Emma waved her hand, “Oh, Jean would prefer it if you did. But this is her choice, and mine. And before you make the comment I know you _desperately_ want to make, no one is mind controlling anyone.”

Rachel snorted, but unfolded her arms and let them drop to her side. “ _You_ love her.”

Emma looked down at her hand, working some imaginary dirt from under a nail with her thumb, “It surprised me as much as it surprises you.”

“You know.” Rachel’s throat bobbed, “I regret pushing dad away for so long. After … him and you. That’s time I’ll never have back. And mom dies all the time, but the last time she was gone a really long time and I missed out a lot on that too. And I know death is kind of a revolving door for us. We come and go like it’s going out of style, but that doesn’t make it _easy_ and that doesn’t mean we don’t miss out on important moments with each other. As it is we’re close enough in age to be more like sisters than mother and daughter.”

“Good lord, I’m not asking you to be my friend,” Emma replied. “Just don’t push your mother away. For both your sakes.” That last thing? That was a conversation that Jean and Rachel needed to have, but perhaps another day. Once the raw emotion that ran unfiltered through Rachel had died down, at least. 

She didn’t like the idea of Jean dying again. Oh she’d probably come back, just like Scott might come back and Logan had come back. But Scott had told her once that Jean had died and come back so often that he just couldn’t take it anymore. His feelings had shifted, faded. He’d always love her but he couldn’t _be_ with her anymore. Emma hadn’t really understood why that had hurt him so much until now. But unlike Scott, Emma was willing to make a deal with the devil and then stab him in the back.

“I’ll try to be civil,” Rachel muttered, and turned to go back inside. She paused, then pointed at her, “And I will _never_ call you mother.”

“Thank god for _that_.” Emma let her go, needing a few minutes alone to collect her thoughts. It was nice and quiet outside at the moment. A few birds chirping, a breeze coming in from the lake.

She reached out lightly. Rachel was still a smoldering ember, Kitty’s mind quieter, her feelings buried for the moment. Something Emma and Jean would have to deal with too, but Kitty could generally be reasoned with and most days she and Emma were on good terms, relatively speaking. They were, after all, _frenemies_.

Logan, however, was still standing in the doorway even though everyone had left by the time she walked back inside. He stared blankly ahead, and Emma imagined smoke coming out of his ears as his mind was stuck in a loop.

She was certain the news would spread quickly. Stepping past him, she spotted the Cuckoo’s. They looked at her, then exchanged various amounts of currency.

“Really, girls?”

There was, however, one person who’s reaction she couldn’t actually predict. A person whose existence she was reminded of when the hairs on her neck and arms suddenly stood up as electricity crackled in the air. “Really? Just how _quickly_ does news spread in this place?”

Ororo gave her a tight smile, “So I understand you broke my boyfriend.”

Emma laughed, “To be completely fair, he broke on his own.” She held her hands out, “Is this where I get the shovel talk?”

“I think I’ll leave that up to your imagination, Emma.”

Emma could imagine a few ways that could go, each of which was more and more unpleasant than the last. Her expression remained bored and her tone cool, “Just make sure I’m buried in my Louboutins.”

“Ro?” Jean stepped out from behind her. “I was going to tell you today.”

“But Logan sniffed you out.” She turned, putting her arm around her friend. “If it makes you feel better, I already knew.”

Even Emma couldn’t keep the surprise off her face, “You knew?”

Ororo flashed Jean a smile, “You don’t think I know when my best friend is hiding something? Or the looks she gives someone she’s attracted to?”

“So you’re okay with this?” Jean asked.

Bluntly honest, Ororo shook her head, “No. Not yet. It’s something I’ve been struggling to accept since I realized, and it’s going to take me some time to accept my best friend is sleeping with the enemy.”

Emma’s eyes rolled so far back into her head that she could see the picture on the wall behind her, “Oh for _fuck’s_ sake! How many times do I have to bleed for you? Nearly die for our _students_?”

She swept her arms out, wishing she’d worn a cape today for the dramatic effect. Emma wasn’t speaking to Ororo at the moment, not really. But to everyone who’d ever attacked her for daring to be an educator, and daring to be an _X-man_ , “I will _not_ apologize for _who_ I am, nor for the actions I take for the betterment of the children and our _species_ as a whole. Shall you nail me to a cross? Would that _satisfy_ you? If you banned everyone who’s made mistakes in the past, there wouldn’t be anyone here.”

_Emma, I think that’s a little harsh._

“You _would_ go for the messianic imagery,” Ororo replied. She didn’t seem entirely willing to accept this, and perhaps she never fully would. But to Emma’s surprise, she nodded, “You do have a point.”

Stepping past them, Ororo grabbed the still catatonic Logan by the elbow. She didn’t look back as she dragged him off, but her words drifted to them as if on the wind, “But if you break Jean’s heart, they will _never_ find your body.”

Exhaling through her nose, Emma felt as though a weight had lifted from her chest. She usually just let it wash over her, but today something inside of her had snapped and she had to _say_ something. It felt freeing.

Jean slipped her arms around Emma’s waist, “Well, that went well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided this needs an epilogue, so there'll be one more chapter!


	5. Epilogue

They said diamonds were a girl’s best friend. In Jean’s case, a diamond was her _girlfriend_ , but who was counting?

Sometimes, when Emma sent her something particularly dirty in the middle of class, she still wanted to kill her, which only escalated things until they were fucking against the wall in the mindscape while discussing social economics in front of class. 

Sometimes, when it was a bad day and Emma’s presence in her mind was a comfort, she loved her all the more. Because there were no walls between them, no acts. She saw Emma for who she truly was, and Emma saw her in turn, and she was never sure that either of them could have said the same with Scott.

Today wasn’t a bad day, but it was slow, and Jean was was keeping to herself for a very specific reason.

_You’re pensive, darling._

_You’re nosey._

_I wasn’t before, but now I am. Are you all right?_

_I’m fine, actually. Meet me on the roof?_

_Interesting. We haven’t done it there yet._

_Emma._

_Coming, darling._

There was a lot of things that the Phoenix could do. A lot of power that remained behind in Jean. While Rachel had held on the longest, Jean had been the _first_. The fire burned in her veins, a constant presence. She watched Emma approach her, a smile tugging at her lips. Jean tossed something in the air and caught it, then held it between finger and thumb.

“Coal? I know I’ve been _naughty_ but Christmas is months away.”

“Just watch.”

Jean closed her fist around the coal. Her power flared, bright light escaping through her clenched fingers. When she opened it, the coal in her palm had been forged into a diamond. She placed something else in her hand as she closed it again. This time, when her hand opened, the diamond had been bonded to a ring.

The question hung in the air between them, dancing in their minds as Emma stared at the ring in Jean’s hand. Words were not needed, not really. Her throat clenched and jaw flexed as unrestrained _emotion_ raged across Emma’s usually icy features.

After what felt like an eternity, Emma held out her hand for Jean to put the ring on, “It’s not _flawless_ , but I suppose it will do.”

Smiling, Jean put the ring on her. “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Darling, the mutant mortality rate is astronomical, if anything it’s taken too long.” Emma felt a little miffed that Scott had never even tried to propose to her, but refused to ruin the moment as she caressed Jean’s mind with her own, “So what _else_ can a sliver of the Phoenix do?”

“Rachel accidentally knocked Kitty up with it,” Jean pointed out.

Emma cleared her throat, “Ah, I’d been wondering. Darling, we’re going to need to have a discussion about _contraceptives_.”

And then her head snapped towards the South. “Do you feel that?”

“Scott’s alive!”

Admiring the ring on her finger, Emma replied, “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?”


End file.
